Blame The Writer
by LadyArn
Summary: Mo finally does something wrong that Resa can't ignore, and she leaves. Dustfinger moves in. Things get complicated with Meggie involved. MxD. Don't like, Don't read. rating lowered for lack of spice
1. Chapter 1

**Author note****  
Warning: Fluff, smut, possibly some angst, bad language. NOthing too bad in early chapters, but will get worse.  
Pair: Mo and Dustfinger  
Disclaimer: If I owned the Inkheart series, I'd be ecstatic, but I wouldn't have done such a great job writing it. I also would be German, married and awesome. I am none of these things.  
**

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Meggie was sitting on a high wall with a new story from Fenoglio when it happened. Her mother rushed along the walkway, faster than most people moved on the uneven paths along the streets of Ombra. Mo was right behind her calling her name.

"Resa, please, just wait! Listen to me!"

"Leave me alone! I'm going home!" she sounded as if she was close to tears. Dustfinger followed at a more sedate pace, but only just barely. Meggie dropped down onto the path in front of him, making the fire-dancer nearly bump into her, but he neatly sidestepped the girl and carried on hurrying after the Folcharts.

"What's going on?" she asked, falling in step beside him.

"If you're mother is doing what I think she is, you may have a difficult choice to make soon." Cryptic as ever. Dustfinger hadn't changed over the last few years.

All of them, Feoglio, Resa, Mo, Meggie, Elinor, Darius, and Farid, they'd been trapped in the Inkworld for almost four years. Meggie was in a stable relationship with Doria, and had been since Farid left. He'd done as he had told Meggie he would, and toured the villages putting on fire shows for the people, just as Dustfinger once did. Dustfinger himself was happy with Roxanne, who visited Resa and Mo on a regular basis. Fenoglio still lived with Minerva and her children, down the street from Elinor and Darius.

Now, their peace seemed shattered, as Resa stormed down the cobbled streets, determinedly marching towards Fenoglio's house. Up the stairs, and then she was banging furiously on the writers door.

"Inkweaver! Open this door! You're sending me home and that's final! I don't care how long it takes! I don't care if I lose my voice again! Send! Me! Home!" she shrieked the last three words, kicking the door with each syllable. The door opened, revealing an irritated Fenoglio.

"Yes, Resa, what is it?" he snapped, "I'm busy, can't you see?" he held up his hands, spattered with black marks.

"Send me home!"

"Yes, yes, I heard that bit." The old man scratched his cheek, leaving a smear of ink across his skin. "But, by all of the letters in the alphabet, _why_ are you suddenly so keen to leave?" Resa glanced around, and seemed to notice her two extra followers for the first time. Her eyes sparkled with tears at the sight of Meggie, but flashed at Dustfinger, with an emotion Meggie couldn't place.

Mo reached out to his wife, but Resa struck his hand away, only to grab his wrist and force him through the door past Fenoglio. She nodded Meggie through after him, and then followed, leaving Dustfinger to follow of his own accord. He did, and shut the door behind him, closing them all in the writer's room.

"Now, what's going on here?" Fenoglio huffed. "Why are you making so much noise? Send you back, you say? Well, I can write something, but I must say, I'm surprised you want to leave; you've all settled in so nicely, and after everything that's happened-"

"Oh, be quiet!" Resa snapped, losing her temper with the old man. "I don't care about any of that now! My life here is over, and I want to go home." She sounded tired now, and her tears flowed as freely as raindrops from a thundercloud.

Fenoglio looked between his guests, and sighed, falling heavily down into his chair, sending Rosenquartz and Jasper scurrying out of the room with a glance.

"Sit down, the lot of you. Tell me what's going on." No-one moved.

Meggie looked between her parents. Resa was silent, as if her voice had abandoned her again, like when Darius had read out of Inkheart for the first time. Mo's silver tongue failed him, and he stammered for a moment before falling silent. However, the few broken and confused words were enough for Meggie to understand.

"Oh, Mo…" she put a hand to her mouth. He couldn't meet her eyes. Resa shook her head scornfully.

"That's right. Go on and hide, Mo, the way you always do. Only our daughter can read you now, but when we met you were an open book." She scoffed. "This story changed you. I don't know you any more."

"What in the blazes are you people talking about?" Fenoglio complained, completely bewildered. "I refuse to write a single word until you explain exactly what is going on here!"

"Mo cheated on Resa." It was Meggie finally said it.

"Meggie," Dustfinger's voice was quiet, but echoed around the now silent room, "it's not as simple as that." Meggie waved him away.

"So you were faithful for the nine years you were trapped here alone?" she turned to her mother. "I know Mo had girlfriends back in the other world, and I doubt you were alone for nine whole years. He makes one mistake now, just one, and you walk away?" she shook her head. "I thought you were better than that."

"He didn't just cheat, Meggie." Dustfinger was at her elbow, hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "Your father fell in love with someone else. Resa could ignore flings and affairs – neither of them are perfect – but they both deserve happiness, and if they aren't in love with each other anymore, they have no future." Meggie looked at Mo.

"Is it true?" she asked gently. He nodded. Resa started crying again. Fenoglio passed a weary hand across his face.

"Look, Resa." He voice was gentler now that he knew what he was dealing with. "Why don't you think about it? Give it a week or so, visit everyone. Make sure that this is really what you want. If you're still sure you want to leave, I'll have something ready, and I'll try and do it so you can come back if you like, but I can't promise that it will work." Resa nodded, understanding.

"That's fine. I'll be back in a week." She swept out, leaving the others where they sat. As the door closed, Fenoglio turned to Mo.

"Well, Mortimer? Who is she? Is she worth losing Resa?" Meggie stared at the writer, then chuckled.

"Oh, Fenoglio, think about it for a second, would you?" the scribbler blinked owlishly.

"I'm afraid I don't…" Meggie smiled, sadly.

"Mo would only leave Resa for someone he felt was his soul mate, someone who understands his moods, his needs, and his heart. Think, Fenoglio, who understands Mo better than anyone else in the whole world?"

"Aside from yourself, you mean? The only name that comes to mind is…" Fenoglio trailed off, eyes widening. "No…you aren't…?" his eyes darted to the figure leaning against his doorframe, silhouetted by the clear sky.

"Don't blame me; this is how you wrote me." Dustfinger smiled softly.

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**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author note****: Hey, sorry it took so long, but I've had exams and stuff.  
Warning: Fluff, smut, possibly some angst, bad language. Nothing too bad in early chapters, but will get worse.  
Pair: Mo and Dustfinger  
Disclaimer: If I owned the Inkheart series, I'd be ecstatic, but I wouldn't have done such a great job writing it. I also would be German, married and awesome. I am none of these things.**

**

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**Resa moved out later that day. She didn't go far though, only down the road to stay with Elinor and Darius. Meggie cried for an hour after she left, and pushed Mo away every time he tried to console her.

Meggie ignored the knock at her door, knowing that Mo would just leave if she didn't answer him. To her surprise, though, the door swung open and Dustfinger peeked in.

"Hey Meggie." He smiled softly. She looked away again, but didn't yell at his to get out, as she had with her father. Dustfinger took this as a positive, and gingerly edged towards the bed. He knelt by her, and almost shyly held out a steaming cup of tea. She looked at his silently for a second, and then took it, blowing for a second before sipping carefully.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" she asked after a moment, voice hoarse from crying. Dustfinger hesitantly touched her hand. She didn't pull away, but she didn't respond either.

"Yes, Meggie." He sighed, moving his hand away to brush a stray lock of gingery hair out of his eyes. "I'm afraid it is." He licked his lips, hesitating for moment. "I'm sorry." He finally offered. "Neither your father or I expected or wanted this to happen."

"How did it happen?" her voice was empty. Not cold, not angry, not even sad. Just…empty. The fire dancer wasn't about to lie to her when she sounded like that. Mind, he'd never been able to lie to Meggie. Her parents, his own wife and child, even Farid, he could lie to all of them – he didn't like it, but he could – but never to her. It had to be her eyes…those bright eyes that seemed so mature, despite how young she was. Well, she'd seen a lot, he supposed, it had to have some sort of effect…

"You were so young the first time it happened." he started quietly. "Do you remember your father telling you about how I turned up on the doorstep after he read me out of the book? And that the two of you left in the middle of the night?" Meggie nodded. "What Silvertongue left out was that I was in the house when you left. I woke up in the morning, and you were gone."

"What…?" she trailed off, uncertain of how to ask, but he knew what she wanted to know.

"Really, Meggie, I can't tell you." he held up his hands as anger blazed in her eyes, and he spoke quickly, before she could say anything. "It's not that I don't want you to know, or that I think you couldn't deal with it, but I can't tell you for two reasons." He held up a single finger. "One, I'm not really sure myself." She looked sceptical, and he held his other hand over his head. "No, really, it was so long ago now, I don't really remember who started what or anything like that. Anyway," he held up a second finger, "second, I think your father wanted to tell you himself."

"Well, I want you to tell me." Meggie said firmly. "Mo's kept so much from me for so long, that I can see him never getting around to telling me. At least I know you won't lie just to get me to stop asking, like he did when I used to ask about Resa."

Dustfinger heard a quiet noise from the hallway, too quiet for Meggie to have heard it, but he knew what it was. Mo was standing outside, listening to them.

"Are you sure you don't want to hear this from your father?" he asked gently. She nodded resolutely. "Alright." He sighed, and thought hard, trying to recall exactly how it started. After a few moments he got all his thoughts ordered, and climbed onto the bed next to Maggie, gratefully rising from the hard wooden floor to take the offered spot next to her.

He started slightly when she shifted so she was sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest. There was something practiced about the way she settled there, making him assume that Mo would sit her there to tell her stories when she was little.

"Don't worry," she said quietly, "if Mo gets mad at you for telling me anything, I'll make sure he knows I asked you to." Dustfinger smiled into the blonde hair at his cheek.

"Don't worry," he echoed, "if he gets mad, I can deal with it. You have a right to know, after all."

"It all started the night you both ran away." Dustfinger repeated his earlier comment. "I turned up at the farmhouse you were living in, it was raining, I remember…" his voice was far-away, recalling that night as best he could. "I was so cold, it was unbelievable. It was so wet I couldn't even start a fire to warm up, but I knew that if I went to Silvertongue looking as pathetic as I did then, he'd let me in, listen to what I had to say. I was right. He let me in, fed me, and got me some dry clothes after a hot shower. I played with you for a while, whilst your father cleaned up the kitchen after dinner." He chuckled. "When he put you to bed, we sat in the living room, talking. We were so careful not to talk about the Inkworld, we didn't even mention anything that could lead to talking about it." He went silent for a moment, staring grimly at the wall. "Of course, that meant we had very little to actually talk about. We ended up having a couple of drinks."

"You were drunk?" Meggie asked, looking back at him in surprise. Dustfinger frowned, and wriggled across so he could meet her eyes without her straining her neck.

"Of course we were. You think you're father regularly sleeps with men?" he asked. "I don't really have an excuse; I read my description in the book…'the life of a travelling minstrel' indeed." He chuckled. Meggie smiled too – she'd read about minstrels back in her own story, in Elinor's library.

"So, you two were drinking?" she prompted, and turned around to face him.

"That's right," he nodded, leaning back against the wall, "like I said, I don't really remember too well what happened after that, but the next thing I know, we're in bed together." They both blushed scarlet, and he laughed. "Now I think I know why you didn't want to have this conversation with your father. He'd be blushing and stuttering worse than Darius in brothel." Meggie laughed at the image of the nervous reader, getting more and more flustered, surrounded by scantily clad women.

"So that's it?" she asked. Dustfinger nodded.

"More or less." He shrugged. "I guess somewhere in the night he packed up, took you, and ran, leaving me in bed."

"But how did a one night stand turn into this?"

"Well, that's because when he brought me back from the dead, your father was so happy by the fact that I was alive, that he kissed me."

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**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author note: Hey, you guys may have noticed that I reposted this chapter, because my lovely friend Yaoishoujo pointed out several problems. Hopefully this version has fixed them. It's also very different to the last try. Thanks babes!  
Warning: Fluff, smut, possibly some angst, bad language. Nothing too bad in early chapters, but will get worse.  
Pair: Mo and Dustfinger  
Disclaimer: If I owned the Inkheart series, I'd be ecstatic, but I wouldn't have done such a great job writing it. I also would be German, married and awesome. I am none of these things.**

**

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**Mo pressed a hand to the door, followed by his forehead. He hadn't wanted Meggie to learn all of this like that. Dustfinger had no right to tell her.

But then, maybe he did. It was as much about him as it was the Folcharts, so why not? And he _was_ a part of the family now…

If Meggie felt comfortable enough to speak to the red-head about this, it would be better for them all in the long run. Mo knew that as long as she could talk to someone, anyone, about what had happened, she could move on. Bottling everything up certainly wasn't emotionally healthy.

Here's hoping he doesn't tell her anything she's not ready to hear, Mo thought.

"So," Mo held his breath, frowning at the rustling in the room, "How exactly did it go?" Mo lost his balance. Dustfinger laughed.

"You're writing this down? Why?"

"It's too good a story to waste!" Mo threw the door open before Dustfinger could say anything.

"Dustfinger, can I please see you in the hallway for a moment?" Mo was clearly forcing himself to sound calm. Dustfinger nodded, ruffling Meggie's hair as he stood up. After a slight hesitation, he leant down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She smiled up at him, earning a grin in return and a surprised look from her father.

In the hallway, Mo leant against the wall and folded his arms, regarding the other male carefully.

"Silvertongue, I know you-"

"I'm not angry." Mo cut him off. Dustfinger blinked. "I can understand why she wanted to talk to you about it instead of me, and I can even understand that she accepts your part in this easier than my own." Dustfinger frowned.

"Why would she…?" he trailed off, confused. Mo shook his head.

"It doesn't matter why she reacts the way she does, only that she reacts at all. I don't care whether she talks to me about it, or you, or Elinor, Darius, Fenoglio, whoever. As long as she talks to _someone_, that's all that's important." He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "All I want ask is that you try not to tell her anything she isn't ready for. Answer any questions she has that she puts to you, but please, Dustfinger, _don't_ say anything that'll affect her badly, alright?"

"I can promise you I won't do it on purpose, but I don't have much experience in dealing with the feelings of teenage girls, so I can't promise I won't upset her unintentionally."

"That's the best I can hope for, I suppose."

"It's the best I can offer."

"Don't." They both turned towards Meggie's voice. She padded towards them, nearly tripping over the marten that appeared from nowhere under her feet. "Don't hide anything from me anymore, even if you think it will upset me. Just be honest for once, alright?"

Dustfinger nodded, then glanced at Mo. The bookbinder sighed.

"Meggie, I wouldn't lie to you unless it was important. If I had told you about any of this before now, could you have understood?" she thought for a second, and then shrugged.

"Maybe. You could have tried. It's not as if I'd have sided with Resa." She smiled wryly. There was a pause. "What?" Mo was staring at her in disbelief.

"You wouldn't have agreed with your mother?" he asked hesitantly. Meggie shook her head.

"To be honest, we were never as close as you seemed to think." She shrugged again. "I mean, I love her – she's my mom, of course I do – but we never really forgave each other for so many things, it was difficult to really be a family, although we tried, for your sake." Mo blinked. Dustfinger smiled.

"Hard to believe she's all grown up, huh, Silvertongue?"

"Yeah, it is. And I thought I asked you to stop calling me that." Mo frowned. Meggie smiled up at her father, blue eyes meeting Mo's, and for the first time in a week, there was no accusation in her gaze. He smiled weakly. Dustfinger hit them both in the back of the head.

"Now, will you two stop being to hard-headed and talk to each other." He shook his head in exasperation. "Come on, neither of you have really eaten since Resa left. Time for dinner."

"Only if you don't cook." Mo countered, only half joking. He could still remember the last time Dustfinger cooked for him, almost a decade ago. There were two perfectly good reasons why he wasn't allowed near the kitchen that could be summed up with two words each: 'food poisoning' and 'fire department'.

"How are we dealing with Elinor?" Meggie asked suddenly. They were sitting at the table as Mo flipped pancakes at the stove. The men exchanged a glance. Meggie caught it. "We're not, are we?"

"No, Meggie." Mo said gently. "She'll have taken your mother's side straight away. If we want to deal with her, we'll have to go through you and Darius." Meggie rolled her eyes.

"Somehow I knew that one was coming." She nibbled on the pancake Mo slid in front of her. "Resa isn't going to be too thrilled about me staying with you, is she?" Dustfinger blinked. Mo's mouth fell open.

"You want to stay? Really?"

"Of course! What a ridiculous question! Stay here, with you, or go back to our old world with a woman I've known for a couple of years? Of course I'm going to stay with you!" Mo laughed and patted her on the head.

"I should have known." He smiled.

"Well, if I leave the two of you to it, goodness only knows what will happen." Meggie chuckled. "At least my room is on the other side of the house." Dustfinger tilted his head in confusion. Meggie frowned. "You will move in, won't you, Dustfinger?" Mo turned to his daughter with a distraught look.

"Meggie!" He groaned. "What the heck…"

"Sorry, Mo. I knew you wouldn't pluck up the courage to ask him for ages, so I thought I might as well do it for you." Dustfinger laughed.

"To be honest, I was going to move my things here little by little until I just moved in without being asked." He admitted. "You guys probably wouldn't have even noticed."

"Probably not." Mo laughed. "Welcome to the household, then!"

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**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author note: I am so so so sorry.  
Warning: Fluff, smut, possibly some angst, bad language. Nothing too bad in early chapters, but will get worse.  
Pair: Mo and Dustfinger  
Disclaimer: If I owned the Inkheart series, I'd be ecstatic, but I wouldn't have done such a great job writing it. I also would be German, married and awesome. I am none of these things.**

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"Mortimer! Open this door! I know you're in there!" the three looked across at the front door, not particularly surprised. They had expected Elinor to come over before then. Mo hesitated before crossing to the door. Meggie smothered a laugh as he reached out to open it, only to pull away. Dustfinger sighed exasperatedly.

"You're going to have to face her sooner or later you know."

"I know." Mo agreed mournfully. He tugged the heavy wooden door open. "Elinor. What can I do for you?" The woman swept in, pushing past Mo and Dustfinger until she could reach Meggie.

"Lets make this quick shall we, Mortimer?" her tone was brusque, but something about her expression didn't match. "You and that matchstick-eater can do whatever you like in this house, but Resa doesn't want her daughter to have to sleep a few rooms away from…those sorts of activities. So, Meggie, you can come and stay with me for a while until that silly writer figures out the best way to send you both back home, alright? Good." She began towing a shocked Meggie towards the street. The girl was too surprised to even resist, and allowed her aunt to pull her down the road, not even registering the movement, or Elinor's prattling about how the two of them could live in her house by the lake, how there was money and cards they could use until they got settled in, how…

"What?"

"I said, dear," Elinor repeated patiently "that you could use whatever you needed-"

"No, no, no! Not that!" Meggie said frantically, tugging her arm free. "Home? This is my home! I don't want to go back! All my friends are here! And Mo! I can't leave him now! Doria! What about Doria? I can't just…I don't want to leave!" Elinor looked as surprised as Meggie felt.

"Well, I don't know. Your mother just asked me to come and fetch you. I assumed you had agreed to…" she looked around, flustered. "Well, I'm rather afraid I've made something of an ass of myself there, haven't I?" There was a forced cheeriness to her voice, which was quickly dropped. "Go back to your father, Meggie. I'll deal with Resa. If she wants to leave, fair enough, but she can't force you to go with her, and she certainly can't make me do it for her!" A slow grin spread over Meggie's face, and she threw her arms around Elinors neck, hugging her quickly.

"Thank you, Elinor!" She kissed the older woman's cheek, then turned and fled back down the street towards Mo, who was being restrained by Dustfinger. The redhead let go as Meggie neared them, so Mo could wrap his arms around her. The bookbinder cradled his daughter, and looked up at Elinor with a thankful smile. She nodded and walked away.

"I told you to have faith in her." Dustfinger chuckled. "You forget, Mo, that your daughter is as stubborn as you are. Neither of you will do other than what you think is right." Mo let go of the girl, and stood up, turning to Dustfinger with serious eyes.

"I should have learnt by now to trust you." he said quietly, before pressing his lips tenderly to his lover's. Meggie wolf-whistled, making them break apart, sheepishly. "And I should trust you more too." Mo ruffled her hair.

"Resa's going to be here in a while to try and convince her to leave." Dustfinger was chewing a thumbnail. "We should start trying to get as many people as we can to support us. Roxanne and Brianna, maybe – they know me well enough to understand why I left them. The Black Prince and the others will help. Farid and Doria, obviously…" he was pacing now, mumbling to himself distractedly. Meggie shook her head.

"Dustfinger, it's a relationship, not a war. Calm down. All it'll come down to is 'Meggie, come back with me', 'no', and that'll be the end of it." He blushed slightly and sat down. Mo patted him on the head.

"And you say I worry too much. Que sera sera, Dustfinger, if she throws a fit, we can handle it. I'm not the only one who forgets Meggie's all grown up now, Resa does too."

"And I have a feeling that people are more likely to take your side than hers." The girl pointed out. "After everything you two have done, everyone should be more than happy for you."

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I** wish I could by "TBC" down here like usual, but to be honest, I don't know if I can. I figured I'd post what little I had left of this fic, because honestly, I can't see myself ever finishing it.**

**I'm not taking it down, as I may one day in the future come back to it, but as I haven't updated in TWO WHOLE YEARS, it's becoming increasingly obvious to me that Blame the Writer is just going to be one of those projects. You know the kind, the ones you have floating around and occasionally poke.**

**So, please, accept my sincere apologies. I began writing this in early 2009 - I was new to the idea of having people actually _read_ my work, and assumed I'd be able to finish it. I have learnt from my mistakes, and hopefully developed as a writer accordingly.**

**In the case of the probable discontinuation of this fic, you really can Blame The Writer. **


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